Am I Too Lost?
by Queen Artemis
Summary: Helga almost gives up, but then she's saved...what'll happen next? FINISHED
1. The Breaking

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!...If I did there would be far more...interesting...plotlines...that involved purple monkeys... I don't own Michael W. Smith, or the song Draw Me Close...wish I did...  
  
In the little copse of trees in the park, trees that, although it was spring, were still dead, a blonde-haired girl sat with her knees curled up to her chest and her head resting on them. The muffled sounds of her sobs could be heard only a short way away, and only by one who was trying to hear them over the sounds of life in the park. Her weeping sounded as though it had been drawn from her very soul, making a listener feel as though the weight of the world had been placed on the slender shoulders of the small teenager.  
In the seventeen years she had been alive, never had Helga felt more alone than right now. With every passing second, the ragged hole in her heart that had been cut into and healed thousands of times before, grew worse and worse. She could feel her soul seeping out of her to pool into the grass, taking with it her every desire to go on living. Though she had always been alone, with a negligent father, alcoholic mother, and a spoiled, selfish, big sister, Helga had always had her dreams, her poetry, and her love for a football-headed boy named Arnold. She had never truly realized how much of her existence and her will to live were connected to that boy. Never realized, that is, until the whispered rumors around school had gotten to her, and began the final breaking of her life. Arnold had finally found someone to love, according to his best friend, Gerald.  
At this thought, the teenager's shoulders shuddered again, and her weeping increased. Since the day in preschool when he had let her use his umbrella so she wouldn't get wet, Helga had loved Arnold. He had been the first to see through the masquerade, the first to get a glimpse into the real Helga Pataki. He had been the first to care about looking. Helga had gone through elementary school, middle school, and most of high school praying that one day he would realize how much she loved him. Her hopes had never died, because, although he had had a few childish crushes, like the one in fourth grade on Lila, Helga had seen that Arnold had never really given his heart to anyone. As long as he stayed free of romantic entanglements, Helga was able to clutch her dreams to herself as a lifeline. And as she grew older, that slowly became the only lifeline she had left.  
Helga thought about all the lifelines she should have had, and smiled bitterly. By the time she reached middle school, her lifeline to Arnold and her lifeline to her best friend, Phoebe, were the only ones that still remained, holding her back from a plunge over the edge of life. Her parents, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, had basically forgotten her existence by the time she was four. Her mother was too absorbed by her alcohol, and her father barely took time away from his job to remember he had one daughter, much less two. Occasionally, both would look up from their separate lives and make a slight effort to care about her, but the allure of their old lifestyles always got the better of them both, and Helga was left to pick up the pieces every time. Since fifth grade, when her sister Olga got married and moved to Europe, they hadn't even bothered to try that much.  
Helga's thoughts and her mood sunk lower as she contemplated her best friend. Although she and Phoebe still talked, since Phoebe had begun dating Gerald, the guy she had loved for almost as long as Helga had loved Arnold, Helga and Phoebe had stopped spending time together. Now they were just passing acquaintances, becoming people that flitted around the edges of life, not bothering to venture out to any depth. So, last year, her second to last lifeline had snapped. Helga had begun to feel as though she was climbing a cliff, and all the anchoring ropes had begun to snap and break. She had been left dangling from a cliff with only one rope holding her from a deadly plunge. Today, that last rope had broken. Helga now hung to the edge of the cliff face of life, clinging with the very tips of her fingers, and she was growing weary quickly.  
Still crying, Helga stood up slowly and shuffled over to the bridge. The bridge where, for so many years, she stood and confessed her love of Arnold to the skies, the brook, anything that was there. She shuffled to the middle of the bridge and stared out into the slowly moving river, her tears splashing down her cheeks and landing in the water, making tiny little ripples, barely enough to the disturb the surface. She felt her heart crack into a million pieces, crumble into a small pile of dust, and be blown away by the wind. Her soul had shrunk into itself, leaving her cold, trembling, alone.  
There is nothing there, Helga thought, sadly amazed. No one to hear me if I scream. No one to care if I die. In that moment of realization, the last vestiges of her world crumbled, leaving only the broken shell of a seventeen-year-old girl.  
As her mind began to contemplate the best way to finally leave the lonely painful existence, Helga's ears picked up the faint traces of a beautiful song being picked out on an organ near the eastern edge of the park. Her tired feet began to move towards the music as a dying soul moves towards the beautiful, beckoning, saving light.  
Helga, tears still trailing down her cheeks, approached a small, white church from which the music was floating away. Her feet hesitantly climbed the stairs to the church doors as her mind began to long for the comforting oblivion to which the music transported her. The door was standing open, and Helga found herself watching an older woman at the organ, singing a beautiful song, completely oblivious to all her surroundings. As the words penetrated the remains of Helga's frozen and lonely heart, she slipped into the church, collapsing silently into the last pew and placing her head in her hands. As she sat there, Helga allowed the words of the song wash over her.  
*Draw me close to you,  
Never let me go,  
'Cause nothing else could take Your place,  
To feel the warmth of Your embrace.  
You are my desire,  
No one else will do.  
Help me find the way,  
Bring me back to you.  
You're all I want,  
You're all I ever needed.  
You're all I want,  
  
Help me know you are near.*  
  
When the woman stopped playing for a moment to change music, Helga lifted her head. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a little boy who had appeared next to her. He looked solemnly into her eyes, taking in the telltale redness and swollen face, and the small tears still sliding down Helga's face.  
As the woman began to play again, the little boy whispered, "Are you an angel that fell from heaven?"  
Helga started, surprise slowing the flow of tears to only an occasional trickle. "Why did you say that," Helga whispered back.  
The boy looked slightly surprised at the question, but quietly responded, "Because my Nana," indicating the woman at the piano, "told me that angels are the most beautiful and joyful creatures in the world. When I saw your face, I knew you couldn't be a normal angel, because you aren't happy. So I thought you might have fallen from Heaven, and that is why you were sitting here crying, because you wanted to go home."  
Helga, although surprised to get a compliment from a stranger, much less a small boy, was nonetheless instantly filled with the desire to go "home." She sniffled, and said, "I don't know where home is, not anymore. I used to, and then everything went wrong..." As Helga said these last words, her eyes began to overflow with tears again.  
The little boy, looking slightly alarmed, began to hug Helga. "It's ok, I know where home is...my Nana says that our home is with Jesus, because He loves us, so that we never need to be scared when we are lost, or when someone else is lost, like my mom. My mom left two years ago. Nana said that God missed her so much, He had to bring her home. So I am not sad, 'cause I know I will see her again, because eventually we have to go home...to Heaven."  
Helga stared at the boy as her brain tried to formulate what he was saying. Her broken mind and shattered heart longed for the faith and the hope that he was showing, because maybe it would be enough. Maybe it would be a lifeline that could save her. She brushed her hand over her cheek, and then gave the boy a hug. "Thank you so much. You will never know how much you helped me..." she whispered, trailing off as she lost the words to express her gratitude. The boy smiled, a sweet, innocent smile, and then got up and left Helga alone with her thoughts. 


	2. Home Sweet Home

A/N: I don't own anything. I am in college, for pete's sake. You have never heard of me, how could I possibly own this show or the song? It is inconceivable! (I don't own that line either *cries*)  
  
Chapter 2  
  
That evening, after spending a long time in the church talking to God, asking Him for His help, Helga walked home slowly, dreading the thought of returning to her house. She opened the door quietly, not wishing to see either of her parents, because they would undoubtedly ruin the first feeling of peacefulness she had had in...she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this peaceful.  
She heard muted noises coming from the den, but no "Big" Bob yelling, so Helga took a chance and tiptoed to the entrance of the den, peeking her head around the corner.  
The sight that met her eyes was a sorrowful, unhappy, and, sadly, a normal sight to Helga. He mother, Miriam, had passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor. Her father, the "King" of the Big Bob's Beeper Emporium empire was in his recliner, snoring, surrounded by beer bottles and trash. As with almost every night, Helga walked into the room and over to her mother, picking up her wrist to make sure Miriam hadn't overdosed again. When she had made sure her mother was still alive, Helga began to pick up the mess surrounding her pitiful parents. As she carried the last of the bottles into the kitchen to dump them into the trash, her stomach grumbled, which caused an expression of disgust to cover her face. Because Miriam often forgot about her family in her drunken stupor and Bob didn't care, Helga was in charge of grocery shopping. After the episode in the park, Helga had forgotten to stop by the store to pick up something for dinner.  
  
She threw the trash away and opened up the refrigerator, praying there was some bit of food that had been left by Bob. There were numerous beer and wine bottles, an end slice of a loaf of bread, and a half-moldy orange. Heaving another sigh, Helga grabbed the piece of bread and shut the door. She then grabbed a glass and filled it up with ice water, taking the glass and the bread up to her room.  
  
When Helga reached her room, she put the glass and bread down on her desk and turned her stereo on. Evanescence began to pour out of the speakers. Helga sat down at her desk and turned her computer on, taking a bite of the bread as it booted up, almost spitting it out as she realized how stale it was. Unfortunately, as it was the only food in the house, it would have to do.  
  
Once her computer had booted up, Helga signed on to the Internet and went immediately to her blog site. Since she had discovered how easily a diary could be confiscated and used for torment in fifth grade, Helga had begun to put her poems and writings on the Internet, where she could remain anonymous. Only Phoebe knew about the site. Not that she cares anymore, Helga thought bitterly. Then she shook her head. Her friend deserved as much happiness as she could get, and Phoebs had that with Gerald. The fact that Helga and Gerald had never gotten along was what began to create the schism between the best friends. Helga hadn't wanted to interfere with the relationship between the two, so she had slowly faded to the edge of Phoebe's life, knowing that their closeness had been lost forever. She almost began crying again, but then she thought back to the little boy. He had had such faith in a God whose almighty hand wiped away the tears of the brokenhearted that she was unable to weep for the loss of her friend. Helga knew that, from now on, no matter what, she would never be alone again. There would always be One with her, carrying her when she fell.  
  
Helga began to type a journal entry for that day, pouring out all the hopelessness and despair that she had felt when she had heard Arnold telling Gerald that he was in love, really in love, with a girl so beautiful that it rivaled that of Helen of Troy. Helga had listened to him, and she knew that Arnold was telling the truth. It really was love this time. That was when Helga had raced to her private place in the park, the place that was a mirrored image of her heart: dead and broken.  
  
Then Helga began to type about her experience in the church – about the little boy who cared so much about the "fallen angel" who had appeared in the back pew to listen to his Nana sing. She wrote about how she had taken a Bible from the pew in front of her, and began to read. Because she had gone to church with her parents when Olga had lived here, she knew that the Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – were the best place to start. Helga wrote about reading of the astounding love that was gleaming from the pages of the Bible, through the words and actions of Jesus. She wrote about how she felt when she read about Jesus dying on the cross – for her- and how she broke down into tears and cried out to God when she read the last words in the book of Matthew – "...And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age."  
  
Finally feeling as though she had captured her seesaw of emotions that day, Helga saved the entry in her journal, and logged off. Glancing at the clock, Helga was amazed to see that it was one-thirty in the morning. She yawned, suddenly aware that the gamut she had run that day had drained her completely, and she was ready to fall into bed, with or without her pajamas on. Quickly getting ready for bed, Helga decided to scan the radio dial to see if she could find a radio station playing any songs like the ones she had listened to in the church. She finally found KWBI, FM 91.1, playing the song Give Me One Pure and Holy Passion, by Watermark (as the DJ said). As she lay in bed slowly drifting into dreamland, the words of the song played around her, and she smiled, recognizing the absolute truth in the lyrics.  
  
*Give me one pure and holy passion  
  
Give me one magnificent obsession  
  
Give me one glorious ambition for my life  
  
To know and follow hard after You  
  
Give me one pure and holy passion  
  
Give me one magnificent obsession  
  
Give me one glorious ambition for my life  
  
To know and follow hard after You  
  
To know and follow hard after You  
  
To grow as Your disciple in Your truth  
  
This world is empty, pale, and poor  
  
Compared to knowing You, my Lord  
  
Lead me on, I will run after You  
  
Lead me on, I will run after You*  
  
A/N – Thank you everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I love hearing that you liked my writing, so please, keep them coming. I hope everyone likes this chapter – I wanted to show kind of what Helga's home life is like, and what happened in the church after the boy left before I get started on the...well, on the BEST part of the story (*evil laugh* yes I am going to make you wait to find out what it is) To my reviewers: In case you haven't guessed yet, yes I am a Christian *wink*, no, this is not a one-shot (sorry I didn't make that clearer at the beginning). Thanks so much again for the reviews!!! 


	3. Sweet Eighteen

Disclaimer: Well let's see. If I owned Hey Arnold! or Pearl Jam or "Last Kiss", believe me, I wouldn't be sitting here at 1:30 on the morning dreaming up ways to torment people *cough* I mean, plotlines for my stories... However, I do own the poem, Precious. I shall call it Precious and it shall be mine. It shall be my Precious. (I don't own Finding Nemo or Lord of the Rings, either, unfortunately *sobs*)  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
Helga awoke to the sounds of Bob and Miriam's screams. It never failed. Every day, the two would wake up, suffering hangovers, and they would begin to scream at each other about the other's irresponsibility, how there was no Advil in the cupboard, no food in the fridge...anything and everything that came to their minds. Even the music pouring out of her stereo's speakers couldn't block them out. Rather, Miriam and Bob's screams began to block out the music.  
  
Flinching from the harsh tones coming from downstairs, Helga grabbed her robe and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door. It only managed to block out a little bit of the noise, but even that was a relief. Helga turned on the shower water and climbed in, shivering as she waited for the water to warm up. As soon as it did, Helga began to briskly wash her dirty-blond hair and soap up. Within ten minutes she had finished her shower, so she turned the water off and grabbed her towel, drying off as quickly as possible so she could put her warm robe on. The noises from downstairs, which had been muffled even more by the water, had gotten louder again. Helga rubbed her forehead; the late night and the screams from downstairs were conspiring to give her a massive migraine. She quickly finished her hygienic and beautifying routine (makeup, hair, teeth, etc.), and ran out of the bathroom to get dressed.  
  
When she had pulled on a pair of black capris and a black spaghetti-strap t- shirt with a pink summer jacket, Helga looked up at the clock and gasped. According to the clock, her morning had just been cut short by twenty minutes. In fact, if she wasn't quick, she would be marked absent from homeroom, again. Helga grabbed her flip flops and raced downstairs and into the kitchen, where her battling parents stood across the room from each other.  
  
"Damn it, Miriam! Why the hell isn't there any food in this damn fridge! I go to work, slave away for this family, and you can't even buy some f***ing groceries!" Bob yelled at his wife, who looked up from where she was trying to blend another alcoholic smoothie. She began to yell back at him, something about what a crock it was that he slaved for the family and how he was a damn, lying SOB who promised her the world...  
  
Helga stopped at the entrance to the kitchen when she remembered that there was no food in the house, watched her parents for a few seconds, and then decided not to risk walking into the midst of the battlefield. She was already late enough, and if Miriam caught sight of her, Helga knew she would be reamed for not buying groceries yesterday. She grabbed her backpack up from the floor where she had dropped it the night before, and yanked the door open, yelling at her parents that she was leaving. Without a break in his yell, Bob began to cuss her out too, telling her what a slut she was...Helga slammed the door on his tirade and ran down the steps and the sidewalk, glancing at her watch to see that she only had five minutes to get into class.  
  
Helga's feet clattered onto the linoleum as she entered her school and raced for homeroom. She slid into the door of her classroom as the final bell rang. Mr. Visser glanced up from his desk, and by the look on his face, Helga knew she would be receiving detention again. She slunk to her seat in the back of the classroom and took out her purple notebook, ignoring the normal stares of the people around her. Helga opened her notebook and began to write a poem, not to Arnold, not after yesterday, but to the One who had saved her life.  
*Precious  
My soul is hurting, damaged and bruised.  
  
My heart is crying, every time.  
  
I have a longing, a hole that needs filling.  
  
Where is the One who heals,  
  
The wounded and broken,  
  
Those on their knees in pain?  
  
Where is the answer to the suffering that I feel?  
  
I have a hunger for the One who will give me satisfaction  
  
The love I crave.  
  
I have found Him.  
  
He is in the wind as it swirls around my head.  
  
He is in the sea, as the waves crash upon the sand.  
  
He is the Creator,  
  
His voice in the creation.  
  
His drops of blood slowly heal my wounds,  
  
like magical tears in a fairy tale.  
  
His scarred hands wipe my tears, pulling me from my knees.  
  
I feel his presence, and it gives me the knowledge,  
  
That I am loved beyond price.  
  
I am precious.* As she closed her notebook, the bell rang, announcing the tedious continuation of the never-ending line of classes, teachers, and students who conspired against her, or so Helga believed.  
  
Finally, it was ninth period, ten minutes before the bell. Helga was slouching in her chair, listening to Mrs. Goeglein drone on about the necessity of using vocabulary properly. Someone had written another essay and interchanged the tone of the novel and the mood of the novel. Helga was standing on the edge of dreamland, when she was rudely yanked back into consciousness by what Mrs. Goeglein was saying.  
  
"And class, we don't want to forget that one of our star writers is celebrating her eighteenth birthday today. Everyone give a hand of congratulations to Miss Pataki!" Helga mentally slapped her forehead. How could she have possibly forgotten that today was her eighteenth birthday? Oh yeah, that's right, she thought bitterly, there is no one else who cares, except maybe Olga, but she hasn't been here for four years.  
  
As the class gave a halfhearted clap and Helga was mentally berating herself, she failed to notice the three people towards the windows whispering excitedly. One, a six-foot tall African-American boy, gestured over to Helga, and continued to whisper. The other two, a petite Asian girl with short black hair and a six-foot tall blonde with spiked hair and a blue baseball cap listened to him for a few moments, and then the girl replied, trying not to look over at Helga.  
  
The bell rang, and the hordes of teenagers who attended P.S. 120 High School were released onto the outside world. As people began to pour out of the classrooms, the noise in the halls increased tenfold. Helga's head, which had been pounding all day, began to sends sparks of light across her vision. She almost moaned, until she remembered that she was in the middle of the hall, and slowly walked to the outside doors, dreading the bright sunshine that always hit when the doors were flung open. Her pained mind didn't process the three people who were standing by her locker, calling her name and frantically motioning for her to come over.  
  
Helga continued to rub her forehead as she walked out into the blinding sunshine, flinching when her eyes began to pick it up. She almost walked right past Miriam, who was standing next to a blue car with an open passenger side door.  
  
"Helga!" Miriam yelled into her ear, and Helga jumped.  
  
"What are you doing here, Miriam," she said irritably, wishing for something to knock her out. "And," she added, her nose, sensitized by her migraine, instantly picking up the cloud of alcohol surrounding Miriam, "why are you driving when you are drunk?!" Helga finished the last with a shout. Miriam glanced worriedly into the car at the big, glowering man seated behind the steering wheel. She grabbed Helga's arm tightly and pulled her over to the car, opening up the back door and motioning for Helga to get in, motivating Helga's confused feet with a little shove. Miriam quickly stumbled into the front seat and Bob pulled out of the parking space in a rush.  
  
Helga's brain analyzed the thousand different things assaulting her pained senses-the smell of alcohol was the one that was pushed to the forefront of her mind. She sat up straighter and slammed on her seatbelt when she realized that, not only were both her parents drunk, but "Big" Bob was speeding down the road at almost eighty miles an hour. Glancing at Bob's face, Helga realized it would be useless to say anything, and would probably get her smacked, based on the ferocious scowl on his face. She gasped as their car swerved around two cars, and a million thoughts were racing through Helga's mind. The first solid idea her brain grasped was to pray, and pray hard. Helga began to pray to God, pleading silently for the lives of the people in the cars around hers, for the lives of her parents, for her life. Silent tears began to pour down her face when Helga realized that she would probably never get to tell Phoebe good-bye, never get to tell so many people what they meant to her.  
  
Her eyes widened in terror as she stared at the car Bob was heading straight towards, yelling something about idiots who couldn't drive. Faintly she heard the words coming out of the stereo *I'll never forget, the sound that night. The screaming tires, the busting glass, the painful scream that I heard last.*, and she felt herself being yanked forward as the sound of crunching metal and the painful screams from Miriam penetrated her fading consciousness. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the metallic taste of the blood that filled her mouth.  
  
A/N: I am so evil. I love cliffhangers. They really make the story better. 


	4. Helga's Friends

Disclaimer: If you really think it would be worth your time and effort, sue me. I own a demon cat. You can have him. 'Cause if you are stupid enough to believe I own Hey Arnold, you deserve him.  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Helga stared dreamily at the red tulip she was holding. Its petals were blood-red, and there were too many of them on the flower – every time she moved her hand, a few more petals fell off, and yet there seemed to be no end to the deep crimson petals.  
She was seated on a flat rock in the middle of what seemed like an ocean of flowers. Tulips, daisies, daffodils, violets, pansies – flowers in every size and shade surrounded the blond-haired girl, leaving only a small space above her for the brilliant light of the sun to shine upon her head, creating a halo of light and giving her the appearance of an angel. Helga began to hum softly, the tune coming to her as if it was a special song, designed specifically for a special place like this, although the words eluded her.  
A small rustling in the flowers near her interrupted her fascination with the never-ending stream of petals from the tulip. A small boy appeared and sat down next to Helga, smiling sweetly at her. A wrinkled furrowed the unmarred skin of Helga's brow, for she had seen this boy somewhere before, but, like the song lyrics, the boy's name was lost to her.  
The little boy whispered to her, "Are you lost, angel?"  
Suddenly, the sunlight, which had been pouring down so happily on Helga, began to dissipate, and dark clouds began floating in over their heads. Her memories came pouring back, and with them, the coldness of the life Helga had left behind...or so she thought.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Brrrrrriiiiiinnnngggg  
  
The bell that signaled the beginning of yet another day of school also brought more worry to the faces of three teens in the classroom of Mr. Visser. Phoebe Heyerdahl, a petite, raven-haired girl was watching the door, her countenance growing even more frantic with ever passing second that the blonde she was waiting for failed to appear. Her boyfriend, Gerald Johanssen, was trying to calm her down at the same time as he was trying to reassure his best friend, Arnold, that Helga would appear at any second, late as usual. While the three's fears that had been growing since the previous evening, when they had failed to find Helga anywhere, increased even more, the Principal of P.S. 120 came onto the P.A.  
"Students!" he yelled, making the noise level drop to a dull roar. "I have some distressing news. Yesterday afternoon, one of our students was in a car accident with her parents." At this news, two raven-colored heads and one blonde head shot up and stared at the P.A. announcer in their room, hoping that this would help them hear the Principal better. To no avail, unfortunately. As soon as Mr. Hawley had finished with that statement, everyone else lost interest, and so the noise level had increased again, making it impossible for Phoebe, Gerald, and Arnold to hear who the student was, and if she was ok.  
"Oh Gerald, I just know it is her! I just know it!" Phoebe began sobbing onto her boyfriend's shoulder. Gerald, in a state of shock, was trying to comfort his girlfriend. He turned to look at Arnold, who also appeared to be in a state of shock, a much worse one, by the looks of it. Gerald raised his hand, and Mr. Visser, failing to get the attention of his students and force them to listen to the rest of the announcements, nodded his head, indicating Gerald should come up to his desk.  
After disentangling himself from Phoebe, Gerald walked slowly up to the desk, dreading the news that he was sure he was about to receive. Mr. Visser had a grave look on his face as Gerald approached. "Mr. Johanssen. I presume you wish to know who the student was, since this bunch," he said, indicating the rambunctious and noisy students around his classroom, "apparently could care less." Gerald gulped and nodded, his heart pounding.  
"The student who was in the accident was none other than our Miss Pataki." Gerald's heart began to break for his girlfriend and his best friend, already knowing that they would be devastated by the news.  
"Is...is she...ok, Mr. Visser?"  
Mr. Visser looked at the boy, no, man in front of him, and slowly shook his head. "Miss Pataki is in a coma. The doctors have no idea if she will eventually wake up." As Gerald nodded slowly, and turned to go, Mr. Visser placed a hand on his arm. "There's more, if you care to know, Mr. Johanssen." Gerald half-turned back to the teacher. "Miss Pataki's parents were both killed in the accident. I know that your girlfriend and Miss Pataki used to be very close. If you would like to go down to the office and get your parents to excuse you, so you can go visit her. I'm sure it would be fine." Mr. Visser's eyes, normally hard, cold marble stones, softened a bit. "I will make sure that all of your teachers know why you, three (?) are absent today." He said, glancing at Arnold as well. Gerald nodded his thanks.  
He walked over to Arnold and Phoebe. "Get your stuff guys. It was her. She's in a coma, and Mr. Visser has given us permission to leave and visit her at the hospital." The two stared blankly at Gerald, Phoebe's eyes still wreathed in tears, and Arnold's still glazed in shock. With a sigh, Gerald began to pack up his and Phoebe's stuff. The movement startled Arnold into movement, and he began to quickly shovel his notebook, book and CD player into his bag, zipping it up, and standing up, ready to bolt out the door. Gerald grabbed his and Phoebe's backpacks and helped Phoebe, still senseless with grief, out of her seat. Together the three friends walked to the door, down the hallway, and into the Main Office, where Gerald picked up the phone to call his and Phoebe's parents, and Arnold's grandparents.  
Arnold and Phoebe sat down in the hard chairs that were scattered around the office for visitors. Phoebe's sobs had started to slow, and she managed to look over at Arnold, whose eyes had lost their natural sparkle. He was staring in shock at the floor, reliving the last few conversations he had had with Helga. Phoebe saw him wince and his azure eyes fill with tears, although he manfully tried to blink them away.  
"Arnold..." Phoebe said hesitantly, her voice quavering. Arnold, refusing to look at her, nodded his acknowledgement. Before Phoebe could continue, however, Gerald came over to them.  
"Ok, guys, it's all set. I talked to my Dad, Phoebe's mom, and your Grandpa, and they all said it was perfectly fine for us to go to the hospital. My dad said that she would need someone to be with her when she wakes up," Gerald said, glancing meaningfully at Arnold. He took Phoebe's arm, hoisted Arnold by the elbow, and supported them out to his car.  
  
A/N: I know, I know, kind of a crappy place to end the chapter, but oh well. I hope you liked it! To: Tinánia Legolinde, Big Daddy, PopStarOE, Houndour, Big Daddy, Carlin Jones, cassbball9797, Roxynomekop1288, and Brat Child2: Thanks for reviewing this fic – I really appreciate the encouragement and commentary! 


	5. Please Come Back

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. If I owned Hey Arnold, I would not currently be sitting here, wasting my life by writing a fan fiction about it. I would merely produce it. So guess what? If you sue me, I can laugh in your face.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Helga stared at the little boy with tears glittering in her eyes. "I'm not lost..." she stuttered with a quavering voice. The dark clouds overhead thundered ominously. "I...I thought...I was finally home!" Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, her emerald eyes gazing pleadingly into the little boy's amber ones.  
The boy continued to watch Helga calmly. "This isn't your home," he said quietly. "Your home is the most beautiful place. It is far beyond anything you, or anyone else for that matter, could ever imagine, for it is the dwelling place of God Almighty. There is no pain, no suffering, no ugliness, and no..." the little hand reached up to Helga's cheek and wiped a crystal drop away, "tears," he finished.  
Small drops began to fall from the clouds, mirroring the drops on Helga's pale face. "So I am still lost?" she cried, her voice breaking. The beautiful field of flowers that had surrounded the two slowly began to fade, a reflection of the dying hope within Helga's breast. With the fleeting hope that she had finally found home, Helga had been able to hold back any memories of how she had come to be in this world. As the hope faded, her mind strained to keep the flood of memories from overpowering her senses; strained to keep forgetting everything that had hurt her.  
The boy's small hand crept into her frigid one, and Helga felt a sudden renewing of strength within her mind. She was once again able to lock out the memories. Her focus narrowed to the two hands.  
As though from a distance, the boy's melodious voice rang out. "It is not yet time for you to return to your physical body, Helga. There are many more things that need to happen, both here and in the world where your body resides, before the memories will be allowed to reappear in this place. For now," he said soothingly, placing his fingers on her forehead, "you need to rest."  
With the touch of his fingers, Helga's eyes slowly drifted closed, and she lay down on the ground, surprised to find that it was soft. Her last thought was that the boy's comforting touch hadn't left her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Arnold paced the floor of the sterile room, his eyes darting from the glass enclosure around the room, to the other occupants, to the floor, and then repeating the dance with every turn he made.  
One of the nurses, a sweet, older lady, had gasped upon meeting his blue gaze when showing him the waiting room. The anguish and pain that she beheld within his stare was enough to break her heart. She told one of the other nurses later, "I hope the girl that was in the crash makes it. If not, there is going to be two graves to dig, because that boy won't make it."  
The other two occupants of the waiting room weren't doing much better. Phoebe, upon receiving the news that Helga was not expected to awake from the coma, had burst into another round of tears and collapsed, leaving Gerald to carry her to the waiting room. The doctor, realizing that these three were probably the only people available for Miss Pataki, as her only other family couldn't be reached, had informed them that they could see her in a few hours, after the doctors had monitored her for awhile. So Gerald was currently comforting his girlfriend and looking worriedly at his best friend, silently wishing the nurse would hurry up and let them see Helga.  
While Arnold was on the last step of his dance, and Gerald was talking quietly to Phoebe, who was staring at her pale hands, the elderly nurse who had shown them to the waiting room entered.  
"The doctors have said that you may see Miss Pataki now, one at a time. You can only stay for a few minutes, but Dr. Crenshaw said that talking to her would be a good idea. It would let her know that she has people waiting for her," the woman's sweet voice penetrated the frozen air in the room. Arnold jumped, and then looked over at Phoebe and Gerald, motioning for them to go first. Gerald nodded, and, taking Phoebe's hand, stood up, walking over to the nurse. Tears still fell from Phoebe's dark, bottomless eyes, but the flow had slowed.  
Phoebe, Gerald, and Arnold followed the nurse down the ominously silent hallway. The only noise was the slapping of their soles on the carpet. When they reached Room 1123, the nurse silently pushed the door open and motioned for Phoebe to enter. Gerald and Arnold watched Phoebe slowly make her way over Helga's beside before the door swung silently shut.  
Inside the room, the only sounds were the beeping of the monitors hooked up to Helga. Phoebe stared down at the pale silent figure lying in the bed. Her features had lost the vitality and passion that defined the very existence of Helga. Phoebe felt her heart breaking as she realized that, no matter what the doctors and nurses said, this wasn't Helga. Helga was never silent and still. She was a firecracker, a beautiful young woman whose soul yearned for love and passion, and yet was able to fend off the only thing she had really ever been given: neglect and hate. For the first time since she and Helga had begun to lose touch, Phoebe felt how much she had betrayed Helga.  
"Oh, Helga," her voice cracked on the name. "You have to wake up. You have to come back. You can't leave me, even though I left you. I need you, Helga. I need to tell you I'm sorry..." she trailed off in tears as the door opened, and the nurse motioned for her to come out. She slowly left Helga's bedside, but not until after she had squeezed her hand, praying that wherever Helga was, she felt that link to those who loved her. Phoebe passed Arnold as she left, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it too. Arnold looked at her gratefully as he continued towards the bed.  
Arnold too stared down at the pale face against the white pillow. His memory began to play all the times he had seen that face scowl at him in anger, and then the few times that he had managed to glimpse the person behind the mask. His thoughts flew to the journal he had read for the past six months, the ones that had truly opened her beautiful soul to him, and his face cracked. Tears began to spill down his face and he grabbed her hand.  
"Helga, you have to come back. You have to wake up. I don't want to know that I waited too long to tell you. I read your journal online, you see. I know all about you, and I love you. I love the woman who lives beneath the masks that you constantly wear to protect yourself. I love the beauty of your soul, and I want that to come back. I want to see you scowl at me, and know that you really don't mean it. I want you to come back..." Arnold's voice got quieter, and he began to murmur to Helga, grabbing her hand and rubbing it between his two palms, desperate to feel the life that once filled the slender fingers. His anguished eyes took in every feature on her face, memorizing it, imprinting it into his brain. He prayed she would open her eyes and flash those precious emeralds at him, but alas, there was nothing, except the slow, steady movement of her chest as her lungs continued to take in life-giving air. It was this alone that allowed Arnold to leave the room when the nurse came to gently push him out.  
  
A/N: I appreciate all the reviews. I am sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter out. There was an idiot trying to mess my life up, and I had to prevent it. So, anyways, as you can tell, Helga isn't dead. And yes, Arnold is in love with her because of her online journal. You didn't think there was a point to that reference in chapter 2, did you? Haha, I love Advanced English class. It makes you think ahead. So how did he stumble across it? How did he know it was hers? I wonder *devilish smile*. *singsong voice* I guess you will have to read the next chapter to find out... 


	6. Flashback

Disclaimer: Sue me. I don't care. You couldn't possibly make this week worse than it already is. You'll waste your money and my time however, because I don't own anything, especially Hey Arnold. I do, however, own the poem in this story. If you take it, I will hurt you. You will feel this week. That is a very bad thing for you.  
  
****************Flashback******************  
Arnold dragged himself down the hallway of the high school, barely alive. The brutality of senior year was finally beginning to kick in, and all Arnold wanted to do was return to the boarding house and sleep. Unfortunately, that sweet escape would have to be put off, because he had three essays due tomorrow and two tests. When he came to his locker, Arnold placed his head against it and closed his eyes in exhaustion. His ears filtered the sounds around him, alerting his mind only when a familiar sound crossed his path. A boisterous laugh followed by a quiet giggle, coming closer to Arnold with every step.  
Arnold managed to lift his head from its resting place and smile wanly at his best friend Gerald, and Gerald's girlfriend, Phoebe. His mind could still barely grasp the energy that radiated from the two, energy that was derived from being near the person that they loved. "Hey guys. How was your day, Phoebe?" Arnold said, nodding toward the petite Asian.  
"It went very well, Arnold. I received an A on my biology exam, and was able to turn my ten-page essay on the motif of redemption in Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel, Crime and Punishment." Arnold just stared at Phoebe in amazement. He had barely remembered what motif was, and his essay had only been three pages. Gerald just gazed at his girl with a lovesick look on his face.  
"Well, I am almost ready...oh nuts!" Arnold cried, slapping his hand to his forehead. He looked at the two in front of him with a look of regret on his face. "I am not gonna be able to walk home with you two today. I forgot that Mr. Simmons wanted to talk to me about something." Mr. Simmons was in charge of the Big Brother program that Arnold had joined to gain volunteer experience as he helped a fourth grader with school. It would also help him gain experience in a classroom setting, which was useful, because Arnold was planning to become a teacher.  
Arnold walked out of the school with Gerald and Phoebe, and parted ways as they headed toward Phoebe's house, and Arnold headed in the opposite direction, towards P.S. 118.  
As Arnold was approaching Mr. Simmons classroom, a young, blond- haired woman walked out, clutching a pile of books and muttering to herself. Arnold was startled to realize it was his old elementary bully, Helga Pataki. I hope she isn't a part of the Big Sister Program with Mr. Simmons, Arnold thought, a little worried. He and Helga had barely spoken since elementary school, only when he and Gerald had encountered Phoebe and Helga somewhere. Since Gerald and Phoebe had begun dating, his contact with her had disappeared.  
Arnold breathed a sigh of relief when Helga hurried the opposite way down the hall. He waited to make sure she wouldn't come back, and then strolled into Mr. Simmons' classroom, instantly flooded with memories of fourth grade.  
Mr. Simmons was sitting at his desk and looked up when Arnold walked in and glanced around the classroom. "Ah, Arnold," he squealed in the same tone that he had used when the gang had been in fourth grade. "I am so pleased that you were able to make it. I needed to give you these papers to fill out for our special program. The papers are just making sure that you will be careful with our special child, and you will concentrate on teaching our special buddy while making sure he understands the concepts well enough to do well on the special "learning experiences" (tests). Mr. Simmons rummaged around his desk, grown messier over the years as he filled it with "special" papers from his children. He picked up a pile of papers and flipped through it, finally snatching a few papers out.  
"A few of the papers will need essay answers, so I will expect the papers returned as soon as possible. I understand high school is a lot tougher than elementary school, so I won't expect it right away, okay, Arnold?" At Arnold's nod, Mr. Simmons handed him the pile and glanced at the clock. His face blanched. "Oh dear! I have a meeting with Principal Wartz that I am late for! I will talk to you later, Arnold!" With that, Mr. Simmons raced out the door, and Arnold followed, trying to repress a laugh.  
  
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~Later that night~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~  
  
Arnold wearily looked up at his clock, wincing when he realized it was already midnight. These late-nighters are going to kill me, he thought, grimacing. Deciding to clear his head before he started to study for his Calculus test, Arnold grabbed the stack of papers Simmons had given him. He flipped through it, signing the few places that required his John Hancock and ignoring the essays. He would finish them later when his mind was clearer. As Arnold flipped to the last page, he was startled to see a note to Mr. Simmons written in the neatest cursive Arnold had ever seen. Recognizing that Simmons had accidentally given him the note, Arnold was about to put it down when he noticed the signature at the bottom.  
  
Helga G. Pataki  
  
His curiosity peaked, Arnold decided to read the note. Most of the information was fairly boring, stuff that Helga had been doing during school, etc. However, the final few sentences caught his attention.  
  
I wrote this yesterday, Mr. Simmons, and knew you would enjoy it.  
How I long for the sweet summer breezes  
of days long gone.  
When the clouds in the sky  
were colorful characters,  
and ice cream dribbled slowly  
down my hand.  
When life was slow and simple,  
and the joy of my love was the  
balm of my existence.  
  
Now the winter blows fiercely in,  
chilling my blood.  
Instead of innocence, the clouds  
become terrifying spectres of black.  
Ice cream has been replaced  
by headache pills.  
  
Life hustles along  
at a busy pace, always moving  
never slowing.  
Simplicity is all too often  
misplaced,  
given away in the elusive search  
for a distant love.  
  
I know you always enjoyed my poetry, and I thought you would enjoy my journal/poetry site. I also think it would help you with the recommendation letter to Brown for my character recommendation. The site address is (A/N: this is NOT a real website).  
  
There were a few more sentences after the URL, but they failed to hold Arnold's attention. His mind was driven with the curiosity to look deeper into the soul of the person who had written the poem. He could scarce grasp the idea that Helga, the girl who scorned any emotion other than anger in elementary, could have such a depth as to write the heartfelt words he had just read. Eagerly, Arnold logged onto the website, anxious to read more.  
  
****************End Flashback******************  
  
A/N: I hope that this explains how Arnold managed to stumble onto Helga's online journal. Before you say anything, I can't remember if you need character recommendations for college, as I only applied to the one I wanted to go to. I decided that since you need character references for some jobs, you could need them for some colleges too. The purple monkey agrees with me. So it will work. Anyways, I know that this chapter is really short, but I really couldn't see adding anything else to it. The flashback just decided to be its own chapter. I am pretty sure the next one will be longer, as we will (hopefully) go back to present-day. I'm not really sure. This story has a life of its own. Just like my monkey. Yeah, I know I am rambling. It is two-o'clock in the morning. Rambling is kind of what I do. Oh and yeah:  
  
blazing wickedness – thanks for the review. I am glad you liked it.  
  
PopStarOE: I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you. You have been a very faithful reviewer, and I love ya for it. I am not sure about the boy and whether or not he is going to have a name. Like I said, the story has its own life. So we will see.  
  
Tinánia Legolinde: I am glad you liked that Helga didn't die. I hope she doesn't/ Don't know if she will or not. If she does die though, she will definitely be going to Heaven. Thanks for all of your constant reviews – I love ya for them!!  
  
Writer4Christ: *blushes* Thanks! I like compliments! You are sweet!  
  
IceSugarHigh: I'm glad you liked it. I'm glad it was emotional. I was shooting for that. I like knowing when I reach the goals I strive for. Thanks!  
  
JediWanda: Well, the update took a bit longer than expected. Sorry. I am glad you liked it :-D  
  
Miah The Storm Wolf: Wow. What a compliment! Thanks!  
  
Harpiebird: Once again, what a nice compliment! Thanks! (I was crying while I wrote it, so I am glad you cried while you read it. It is nice to know I am not crazy). I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!  
  
InuyashaGrl13L: Here's the update. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Ok, I have to stop now. It is three in the morning and I am almost dead. I need to post this and then fall into bed, so everyone I missed: I REALLY REALLY REALLY enjoy the reviews and compliments!! I will try to mention you next chapter ( :'( ) I really do love you all!!!!!!!!!! Please keep reviewing!!! 


	7. Beautiful, Scandalous Night

Disclaimer: My mind has no secrets from me. It says that I do not own Hey Arnold, so I must not. It also refuses to let me believe I own "Beautiful, Scandalous Night" by Smalltown Poets. So don't sue me.  
  
A few candles near the altar illuminated the small room. It was empty, as this room so often was, except for a young man slumped in the second pew. His head was bowed, and the evidence of his grief could be heard from the back of the room. The nurse who had pushed open the door to check on the candles heard him, and frowned sympathetically.  
Yet another broken hearted soul who has sought this sanctuary of peace in the midst of this raging sea of sorrow, she thought, almost in tears. I wonder why he is here. He seems almost too young to have the kind of sorrow that breaks a heart as much as his heart appears to be broken. However, she did not disturb him in a misapplied gesture of comfort. After a few years in the intensive care unit, one learns to allow the people who retreat to the chapel their sorrow. She silently shut the door and continued on her rounds, wiping a lone tear off her cheek.  
Not realizing he was being observed by anyone, Arnold continued his silent struggle and debate with God. Lord, please don't let her die! Or, if someone must die, let me die in her place. Let her stay here. Please don't make me live without her, my love. Please, Father God, please. His mournful and heart-wrenching pleading was met with a stony silence from the heavens. Arnold's spirit fell further into the depths of despair. His inner eye could not see any more hope, and he was perched on the edge of the same cliff that the object of his prayers had almost fallen off of a few days before.  
Arnold suddenly realized that he was no longer alone in the room. Gerald, in search of his best friend, had pointed his steps toward the chapel, realizing that Arnold would probably have gone straight there after seeing Helga in her unconscious state. Gerald would have followed him right away, but Phoebe had not been in the best state of mind, and it had taken Gerald a while to calm her down, get her to eat some stale chips from the vending machine, and then settle into the waiting room with The Age of Innocence, to keep Phoebe's mind from concentrating on Helga. He then set off immediately to find Arnold, fearing for his friend's state of mind.  
"Hey my man, are you gonna be okay?" Gerald asked, softly, respecting the reverence that resided within this room.  
Arnold looked up into the face of the man who had been his best friend since preschool. "She looked so helpless, lying there, Gerald. I have never seen anything else that hurt so much. Her beauty was almost gone, because her radiance comes from the spark of life and passion within her. And it was gone. It was as though," and he choked on the next part, sorrow lowering his voice to the barest whisper, "it was as though she had already left. As though she had already died and her soul had left to dance with the angels." Arnold broke down into tears again, and turned away from Gerald.  
Gerald awkwardly placed his hand on his friend's back, unsure of what to do. He could understand Arnold's pain, because he knew what he would feel if it had been Phoebe in that bed. "C'mon, Arnold, let's go back to the waiting room. Perhaps the doctor will allow you to see her again. They always say that talking to a person in a coma helps them to regain consciousness. And perhaps we can try and contact Olga for the hospital. Last I heard, the nurses were still unable to reach her." With that Gerald stood up, pulling Arnold to his feet. The pair slowly left the peace and solitude of the sanctuary, continuing to send up silent prayers for the well being of their friend.  
  
*Go on up to the mountain of mercy  
  
To the crimson perpetual tide  
  
Kneel down on the shore  
  
Be thirsty no more  
  
Go under and be purified  
  
Follow Christ to the holy mountain  
  
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall  
  
Cleanse your heart and your soul  
  
In the fountain that flowed  
  
For you and for me and for all  
  
On the hillside, you will be delivered  
  
At the foot of the cross justified  
  
And Your spirit restored  
  
By the river that poured  
  
From our blessed Savior's side.*  
  
"Nana, it's the angel!" The sweet, clear, ringing tones of an innocent voice rang out over the beeping monitors. The elderly woman dressed in nursing scrubs glanced over at the six-year-old cherub standing in the doorway. She smiled indulgently and shook her head over her grandson's fancies. Two days ago, while she was practicing the music for Sunday's service, Michael told her he had seen an angel who had fallen from Heaven in the back of the church, crying. She looked at the woman, pale and listless, lying in the bed. After thirty years of being a nurse in the intensive care unit, she could still barely stand to see young children and teenagers trapped by injuries and head trauma. She looked toward the sky and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the God who had preserved most of her children and her grandchildren, keeping them safe from harm, and added a prayer for the woman in the bed.  
When Madeline glanced back at the woman, she was shocked to see Michael standing next to her, touching her hand and whispering to her. "Michael," she called, wondering what her grandson was doing this time.  
Michael glanced at his Nana, and then back at the angel. "Good night, angel. Sleep well." He gave her hand one last pat, and ran over to his Nana. "Nana, is she going to go to Heaven with Jesus and Mommy? She said she didn't know where home was, so I told her. Did the angel find her way home, Nana?" Michael's amber eyes pierced into his Nana's.  
Madeline bent down and took Michael into her arms. "Oh, baby," she said with a slight crack in her voice. "This isn't an angel. She was in a car accident, and she is in a coma. I don't know if she is going to go home, sweetheart. No one knows if she is ever going to wake up, either." As Madeline finished telling her precocious grandson about the woman, his eyes filled with tears.  
"I saw her in church, Nana, I really did. She was crying and said she was lost and I hugged her and told her that we aren't ever lost because Heaven is our home. And then she thanked me, Nana, and I thought I made her feel better. Do you think I made her feel better, Nana?"  
Madeline smiled at Michael and hugged him hard. "I am positive that you helped her, Michael. And I am sure she knows where her home is now." Madeline stood up and took his small hand in hers. "I have an idea. Your angel over there has some friends who are very worried about her. Would you like to go speak with them?" At Michael's ecstatic nod, Madeline smiled and led him out of the room and down the hall to the waiting room.  
  
A/N: I am beginning to wrap this story up. Hopefully it will play itself out in the next two or three chapters. I am hoping. I don't know, though. Like I said before, this story has a mind of it's own. 


	8. Sweet Release

Disclaimer: *looks around* Nope, I still don't live in a mansion. Which is almost a sure sign that I still don't own Hey Arnold. *sigh* Oh, how I wish I did...  
  
CHAPTER 8  
  
Madeline stopped at the entrance to the glass-enclosed waiting room, Michael clutching her hand. Her gaze search out and found the blond, oblong- headed young man that was the object of her examination. Rather than pace, as he had been doing before the doctor allowed Miss Pataki visitors, the young man was currently seated on one of the uncomfortable metal chairs that had been placed for the convenience of family members stuck there. His head rested on his hands, and his elbows rested on his jean-clad knees in the eternal position of a person who has grown weary of the burden of grief on his or her back. Madeline knew it well; working in a hospital afforded one interesting insights into body language. In respect to the grieving persons within the room, Madeline bent down to her grandson's level and pointed towards Arnold, whispering, "That young man is the one in love with your angel, Michael." Madeline knew this because she had been the nurse who had the fortune, or misfortune, to gaze into his piercing blue eyes and fall captive to the exquisite anguish in their depths, anguish that only comes from loving someone.  
Arnold peered out of the corner of his eye when he sensed someone sit down next to him. He was shocked to see, rather than the 6-foot black man he had expected, a considerably angelic-looking, amber-eyed little boy gazing at him expectantly.  
"Yes?" Arnold said in a deep and rough voice, when the boy's piercing gaze began to make him uncomfortable. "Did you want something?"  
The boy's mouth opened, and in the same melodious voice that had haunted Helga, the boy asked the only question Arnold was unprepared to hear.  
"Are you in love with my angel?"  
Arnold looked dumbfounded. Angel? What in the world was the kid talking about? Who was this kid, disturbing him with stupid questions while Helga could be dying.  
Madeline, waiting by the door, saw storm clouds forming on the young man's countenance and she hurried over.  
"I'm sorry my grandson is bothering you, but I thought you might enjoy talking to someone about Miss Pataki, and I know Michael still needs convincing that the young lady isn't a fallen angel. But, we shouldn't have disturbed you. I'm sorry again." Madeline grabbed Michael's hand and was about pull him away, when Arnold stuck his hand not to stop them.  
Arnold was still reeling from the idea that this young boy thought Helga was an angel. He didn't want Michael, as the nurse had called him, to leave just yet, though. He wanted to know, driven by the insatiable curiosity that he had always had about Helga, to know why the boy seemed to be convinced that Helga was an angel. He might be in love with the woman, but he also knew that she wasn't perfect, and was nowhere near angelic. She was often mean and rude and abrupt, but, then again, most people were at some point.  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have got upset. I just didn't understand what he was talking about when he asked me if I was in love with his angel. Where did you meet Helga? And why do you think that she is an angel? I might be in love with her," he said softly, "but I have also known her since preschool. She has never been angelic."  
Michael looked at him in shock. Madeline, realizing that the two males should be fine together, quietly left them alone as her grandson began to get upset. "What do you mean, she isn't angelic? My Nana said that angels were the most beautiful creatures on Earth, so my angel would definitely qualify." The little boy looked defiantly at Arnold, as though daring him to deny that Michael's angel was beautiful.  
Arnold was amazed. Michael reminded him of himself: a little boy who had looked harder to see the something everyone else missed in a sad and lonely little girl.  
"Where did you meet Helga?"  
"At church. My Nana was playing the piano, and then my angel walked in and sat down." Michael's eyes rose to meet Arnold's. "She was crying and sad, so I thought she was an angel that had fallen from Heaven, and couldn't find her way home." And Michael proceeded to tell Arnold all about his encounter with the angel.  
For the rest of the afternoon, Arnold and Michael sat in the waiting room, talking about Helga. Arnold shared stories about his childhood, about the woman he watched Helga become, about the woman he had only truly come to know in the past months through her writing. It was dusk, the room darkening a bit from the lessening light before Arnold stood up, took Michael's hand and led him back to Madeline.  
"Thank you, Ma'am. What you did, allowing me to speak with your grandson, even thinking about the friends of a patient, that was really a blessing. I hope God blesses you for what you do. And I hope you will let Michael come back to see Helga. I am sure she would love it." Michael's face bloomed into a smile at this.  
Madeline smiled, blushing a bit. "It was quite fine, young man. My little grandson here is the blessing. He was the one who spoke to Miss Pataki. I only thought that it would convince him she was not an angel if he spoke to one of the people who cared for her, who knew her." She leaned over and whispered to him, trying to keep Michael from listening. "My youngest daughter, Michael's mother, was killed in a car accident. Now, whenever I see someone hurting from an accident, I am reminded of her, and how blessed my family would have been had a nurse cared about her. So I try to care and to always remember how the family or friends must be feeling, and be considerate of them. I know Michelle is looking down, smiling because of it." Madeline's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears as she pulled back. "I am sure Michael would love to come back and see his angel again. Are you leaving, Mister..." She trailed off when she realized she didn't know his name.  
"Arnold. Call me Arnold. Everyone does. And, yes, I was going to leave for a bit. I need to go home and speak with my grandparents, take a shower, feed my pig, and get some sleep. I will be back in the morning, though." Arnold looked around curiously. "Would you happen to know where I can leave my number for someone to call me if she wakes up tonight? I don't want her to be alone if she wakes up, but I am worried about my grandparents, and my friends had to go home. Their parents didn't want them spending the night in the hospital."  
Madeline smiled and nodded. "Follow me. The nurses' station at the end of this hall will take your number and be sure to notify you." With that, the three headed off towards the end of the gray hallway and the swinging doors that signaled the end of the intensive care unit.  
Later that night, Arnold, having been to the boarding house to make sure that only the normal craziness was occurring, decided that he needed to have some solitude and peace. He was currently walking through the park, watching the stars twinkle above him. O God, what a beautiful night you have created. He smiled, a sad, tearful smile. If only she could be here, walking with me. Talking to me...allowing me to bask in her beauty. O Lord, please let her recover. Please let her wake up, so I can show her everything I love. So I can show her what she really means to me. Please, Lord, let me have one more chance. Tears were pouring down Arnold's face as he fell to his knees in the little grove of trees that Helga had used as her sanctuary. But, Lord, if You choose to take her from me, if You, in Your almighty wisdom decide she is needed by Your side far more, please give me the strength to understand and accept it. Please give me the strength to continue on, God, because it is through Your wisdom and mercy that my life is worth anything. Give me strength, my Father. I need You now.  
Arnold bowed his head in surrender, realizing the possibilities of Helga never returning to him grew with every moment that passed. His tears fell from his cheeks and watered the newly green grass. His very soul felt as though it was being ripped from his being, and Arnold knew that only through the shelter and strength of his Lord would he ever manage to continue on if his angel died. He had realized that there was a grain of truth in what Michael had labeled Helga, because her real self appeared when it was most needed, just like an angel. He also knew that she would forever remain his angel, the one who protected him and watched him, even if she did die.  
Arnold stayed kneeling in the grove for a while longer. The peace and quiet of the night, with only the occasional chirp of a cricket, had been a balm to his soul, as if God had reached down and laid His healing hand upon Arnold's head. Feeling soothed enough to return home, Arnold slowly got up from his humbling position, and glanced around the grove. He smiled slowly at the few cherry blossoms that had started to grow on the trees, recognizing the sign that life was still progressing as it should. He moved unhurriedly out of the grove and headed toward home, and the sweet release sleep would bring.  
  
A/N: Hm...I wonder if Helga is going to die? I wonder what will happen? Why do you leave me here?!? *growls at monkey* Stupid muse! Why did you leave it there?  
  
To my ever-faithful reviewers: You guys are wonderful. So awesome. Thanks so much for all the compliments.  
  
IceSugarHigh: I didn't know that about ICU nurses, thanks for telling me! I actually modeled Madeline after my grandma, who was a nurse in surgery at the hospital where I was born for thirty years. She still talks to half the people she had as patients. So I thought she would be a wonderful model for a caring, considerate nurse.  
  
Tinánia Leoglinde: *gasp* I don't know when we will see from Helga's POV again. (lol). Ok, well, actually I do. But I can't tell you. Thanks for the review!  
  
Harpiebird: Actually, Helga was only in a coma for like a day and a half – so far. Thanks for the compliment, though!  
  
RuffMaster: Thanks! I am actually impressed too. I am not quite sure where any of this comes from. Like I said, the story writes itself, I just type it out ( ;-) )  
  
PopStarOE: Thank you soooooo much for your reviews. I had to name him, I was getting sick of calling him "the boy". Way too annoying to type out. I lost track of what I was writing about. I debated calling him Gabriel, but decided Michael was a better fit, as it means "Who is like God?" in Hebrew. Thanks for the suggestion, anyways!!  
  
Brat Child2: I am so glad I haven't left you with any questions so far! I am quite happy to report that I too hate having questions when I read something. Drives me mad. So, naturally, there can be no questions within my story, correct? (lol) Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
  
I love you all!! Thanks so much for taking the time to read and review!! Until next time...sleep well!! Kisses and hugs from Queen Artemis and her purple monkey! 


	9. My Angel Is Here

Disclaimer: I am the Queen of Purple and Green Aliens from Africa. That I admit. However, I do not (unfortunately) own Hey Arnold or the song My Angel is Here.  
  
CHAPTER 9  
  
A/N: Warning! This chapter has a somewhat different format from the previous ones...be prepared for a long and possibly somewhat confusing ride...Oh and remember, the boy angel in the subconscious still has no name...only the boy in the real world has the name...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A little hand stroked the blond hair on the sleeping girl. The boy's amber-colored eyes looked at the sweet face of the woman lying next to him, finally at peace in the sweet release of sleep. His glance drifted from the woman to the scenery, pleased to see a few shoots of grass, a few sprouting trees, an array of color begin to cover the gray landscape. Suddenly, his head cocked, as though listening to something, or someone. Suddenly a smile split his features, as though he had received the best news in his small conversation with no one. His hand ceased stroking the woman's hair, and drifted to her face, caressing it in a way designed to make the girl wake from her dreamless slumber.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*They say, there's a state of heaven  
  
Somewhere, way beyond the clouds  
  
I know, there's a piece of heaven in every little thing that you do  
  
'cause every time you walk in the room  
  
My angel is here, my angel is here*  
  
Arnold dragged his feet through the sliding doors at the entrance to the hospital. The afternoon sun blazed down upon his blond head, wreathing it in a halo of golden beams. For a week he had been making this daily journey to the bedside of his beloved, and every day his hope had faded farther. Only the otherworldly strength from his Father had kept him standing through his daily routines, the constant questions about Helga's condition, the pressing concerns of habitual movements.  
As Arnold entered the ICU section, he sensed something different. After a week of his almost constant presence, he had begun to realize that there was a feel to each section of the hospital. Mildly, Arnold wondered what the difference was caused by, but brushed off the concern and continued down the hall, intent only on his destination.  
When Arnold reached Helga's room, he could feel life radiating out of it. Thinking for a moment that Helga had woken up and the nurses had forgotten to notify him, Arnold pushed the door open and almost fell into the room. Unfortunately, the sight of the room was enough to draw him up short. Although not disappointing, it was a dash to Arnold's hope when he saw that the life shining from the was not from the young woman lying still in the bed, but rather, the little boy seated on the edge of the bed next to her, stroking Helga's hand and whispering in low tones to her.  
"Michael! I'm so glad you could come back to visit Helga!" Arnold was genuinely pleased. The little boy whispering to Arnold's beloved had formed a bond of kinship with her after only one encounter, and Arnold was sure that, wherever Helga's soul currently flew, it could feel the love from Michael and him. He prayed that is would be enough to bring her back, but knew that only God determined which way the path of life would twist next. All Arnold could do, all anyone could do, was trust that His wisdom is all that is needed.  
Arnold sat down in the chair that had been scooted next to Helga's bedside, on the opposite side of where Michael was perched. He took Helga's other hand and held it, hoping she could feel the slight human connection wherever she was, and that it would comfort her.  
  
*Lying, saying I ain't lonely  
  
Crying, when no one sees my tears  
  
Dying, whenever love's disowned me  
  
Each night I've prayed for help to get through  
  
And when I felt you near me I knew  
  
My angel is here, my angel is here*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Helga opened her eyes slowly, unaware of the passage of time outside her mind. Her cheek was being stroked by a tiny hand, and a cherubic face was smiling at her.  
"Oh, good! You are awake!" The little face brightened. "It is time now for you to understand why you were brought here, for then events will play out as God wills."  
Helga sat up slowly, glancing around. A small butterfly flitted around her head before landing on her hand, and Helga shivered at the touch, strangely comforted by the feeling. The gray landscape that she remembered from before her slumber had been replaced by an array of colors – a grove of cherry trees. The strong smell of the cherry blossoms overwhelmed her, and she was almost lifted away into the scent, carried away by the breeze on which it rode. The angel's voice brought her back quickly.  
"Helga, the time has come. Your soul has rested in the beauty of the Lord, and the spirit has been restored." His eyes pierced Helga's, and his voice grew softer as his hand reached out to touch her cheek. "It is now time for you to remember why you were brought here, and why you need to leave."  
Helga's face filled with fear at this. "Leave? Why do I have to leave? I like it here! There is no one who can hurt me." Her emerald eyes pooled with tears, and her voice began to crack.  
The little boy hugged her. "You have to leave because your work is not yet finished. This place is only a small taste of what is to come, when you have completed your work and the Father calls you home. As for people who hurt you, it is an inevitable part of loving people. No one is perfect, except Jesus, and therefore only Jesus can be depended on to never let you down." Then his amber eyes began to twinkle, and his voice brightened and grew stronger. "But you, my dear, have something more to look forward to once you leave this place. Before you are given the knowledge of what is waiting for you, however, you must remember what you left." With that, the boy's hand flew out, wiping across the sky, erasing part of it to make a window of sorts.  
Helga found herself watching a scene that was extremely familiar. She was watching her room from above, and saw herself sleeping peacefully under her cotton candy pink bedspread. As time flew by, Helga watched the events of the day she had forgotten, the last day her memory had stored: the day the world came crashing down. She watched as her past self walked out of the school building, inadvertently ignoring the three people trying to flag her down. She watched the car ride, felt the terror again as the two cars careened toward each other, and heard the haunting words from the song on the radio play again, filling her senses.  
And suddenly the window went black. The boy's hand wiped it away, and he turned back to Helga. She sat back in shock, emotions running rampant over her face. "Did...did anyone besides myself survive...survive that wreck?" Her voice came out softly into the cool, sweet air.  
The boy looked at her sadly. "The couple in the other car...well, the woman was pregnant, and she lost her child. She is still alive. Her husband and your parents, however, didn't survive. They were all killed instantly."  
Small, crystal drops made tracks down Helga's cheeks. She looked at the boy with a lost, confused look on her face. "Why did the man and baby have to die? It wasn't their fault. It was Bob's fault! Why did they have to suffer?"  
"No one is told any story but his or her own. All things have a purpose – they all work together for the Lord's purpose." The cherub face brightened again, shining with the light of a star. "However, now that you understand how it is that you are here, it is time for you to understand what awaits you when you return."  
All of the sudden it seemed to Helga as though the volume had been increased ten-fold. Her ears were inundated with a sweet voice that was reminiscent of the cherub's, but seemed to come from everywhere at once. Its sweet tones and sweeter words began to dry the tears on Helga's cheeks. Her heart filled with music, and her face lost its sadness and developed a look of joy.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*I'm so protected and heaven's so near  
  
When I am under your wing  
  
My wounds are healed, and my spirit is clear  
  
So come on angel, make my heart sing*  
  
Michael leaned over his angel's face, peaceful in its current state of slumber. Arnold watched as his hand began to stroke Helga's cheek, and his mouth began to move, murmuring indistinct words to her. Arnold smiled, for he had often done the same thing over the past week, praying each time that his words would make a pathway to help his lost beloved find her way back to him.  
Michael whispered to Helga, "You can come back now. We need you. I need my angel back, but he needs you even more. He told me how much he loves you. I saw how much he misses you. You can't go home yet, because we still need you here. Please come back, angel."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Helga smiled as the words faded. She glanced over at the boy, noticing that he was watching her with a small smile on his face.  
"I remember that voice. It is the voice of the angel who saved me from doing something I would have regretted." She looked him straight in the eye, slightly accusing. "It is you. The one speaking is you!"  
The boy's small, round head shook in the negative. "This is merely a form I have assumed, because it is a comfort to you. This is not my real self. The one speaking the words is the real little child who saw a crying woman in the back of a church and determined that she was an angel fallen from heaven. He is one of the ones who await your return with eager hearts and hopeful souls. However, he is not the only one. There is another who, because of his patience and his trust in the Lord's plan, no matter what it might be, will be rewarded beyond belief when you awake."  
Helga looked at the angel questioningly. Who was there in the world she had left behind who would care if she lived or died? Her inquiry was quickly answered by another clip of sound, only this one was obviously from some previous time, probably close to the day she had been in the accident. Helga gasped as she recognized the voice.  
"Helga, you have to come back. You have to wake up. I don't want to know that I waited too long to tell you. I read your journal online, you see. I know all about you, and I love you. I love the woman who lives beneath the masks that you constantly wear to protect yourself. I love the beauty of your soul, and I want that to come back. I want to see you scowl at me, and know that you really don't mean it. I want you to come back..."  
The anguish apparent in Arnold's voice made Helga's heart weep. She fell to her knees in surrender, acknowledging the great gift that her bountiful Lord had bestowed upon her. No matter how unworthy she had deemed herself, He had seen fit to guide her beloved's eyes to the only thing that would open her soul to him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Subconscious Sequence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*So when I'm lost and alone, who will find me?  
  
Who's there whenever I call  
  
Show me the way to the strength that's inside me  
  
Pick me up, whenever I fall*  
  
Arnold stood up and moved over to stand over Helga. He picked up her hand, praying that the slight movement he thought he had seen was not imagined. He began to rub her hand, feeling the heat that indicated life still resided within the shell of her outer body.  
"Helga, please," Arnold whispered, intent on staring at his beloved's shut eyelids, willing them to open. "Please come back to me. I know you can hear me. Please, I love you." Tears obscured his eyes, and Arnold was unable to see Helga's eyes flutter open, but he heard Michael's gasp, and felt the slight pressure returned on his hand by hers. He quickly blinked the tears away, and felt his heart overflow with joy as he began to drown in the deep green pools that filled his vision. "Helga..." he voice gasped out, before he fell on her, squeezing her, silently swearing that he would never again let her go.  
Helga's eyes filled with tears, and she maneuvered her arms, weak from a week of disuse, but still there, around his back, clutching him to her.  
Arnold pushed back so he could see Helga's beautiful face, once again radiating the life and passion that characterized her. "Helga, I am so sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have told you months ago..." He trailed off as Helga placed two fingers against his lips, silencing him.  
"I should have told you years ago. Let's not waste any more time on regrets or the past. I was given a second chance, and I don't want to waste it." With that, Helga pulled Arnold's head down for a kiss, and as their lips touched, Helga sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Heaven for the wonderful gift that she had been given.  
Unbeknownst to the two lovers locked in an embrace that spoke of the future that shone from their eyes, a small boy jumped down from the hospital bed and skipped out of the room, humming a little song about an angel.  
  
*You say, love has no conditions  
  
Each soul, is free to come and go  
  
Stay strong, I don't need permission  
  
'cause paradise is waiting for me  
  
Every time I hear my heart speak  
  
My angel is here.*  
  
A/N: *sob* The story is almost over! *sob* Only one last chapter to go... 


	10. Memorial

Disclaimer: I am still the Queen of the Purple and Green African Aliens. And I still own a purple monkey muse and a demon cat. And yet, I still don't own Hey Arnold or "It's Never Easy to Say Goodbye". How sad is that, I ask you?  
  
A/N: Here it is, folks – the eternally awaited and internally mourned final chapter to the saga of the domed and impressed love of Helga and Arnold. *Postulate for hours on the...blah blah blah...(goodness sakes I bore myself...)* And so, my dearly departed fans, so long, fare thee well and always enjoy broccoli and monkeys!  
  
CHAPTER 10  
  
*Jimmy climbs on board that old yellow bus  
  
It sure looks big in his little eyes  
  
His mama waves as her tears kick up the dust  
  
It's never easy to say goodbye  
  
Julie Ray in her pearl white wedding gown  
  
Has found her wings and it's time to fly  
  
It's all her dad can do to keep from breakin' down  
  
It's never easy to say goodbye*  
  
They slipped silently into the back of the church, like shadows on the wall, three souls come to pay their respects to the dearly departed. The young woman was crying, her beautiful, expressive emeralds pooling with emotions that spilled over onto her cheeks. The two males with her, a young blond-haired man and a small brunette child held her hands, and the older one placed his arm around the woman's slender shoulders, pressing her into his side in a gesture of protectiveness.  
The pastor stood up and began to talk of the precious gift that life is, and yet how the hand of God controls all things, so when life is suddenly stripped away, there is always a purpose and a meaning. Helga smiled through her tears at that, lost in memories as she snuggled close to her beloved's side and clutched the hand of her little angel. Michael did not understand why she had needed to come to this memorial service, but had vowed to stay with her after seeing her begin to cry. Madeline had merely looked on in sympathy, silently understanding Helga's need to be at the memorial, and her need to have Michael and Arnold with her.  
  
*I've had some friends that I lost along the way  
  
They've been called on down the line  
  
Though their time was short, I think about them every day  
  
And it ain't easy to say goodbye  
  
Now the time has come to go our separate ways  
  
And it's all right if you want to cry  
  
And though I know, we'll meet again someday  
  
It's never easy to say goodbye.*  
  
The bent and broken woman slowly climbed to the stage, her hands trembling, and her blue eyes still filled with tears. Her soft, tremulous, voice filled the small church as she began to speak. Although she had prepared nothing, her heartfelt words of love, filled with the anguish of loss, struck the souls of the listeners. She spoke of dreams that would be forever unfulfilled because of the cruel turn taken when her husband and unborn child were killed. And yet, as she finished her eulogy, her final words were not that left her listeners on the edge of a sea of grief. They were words of hope, the knowledge that she would see her husband and her child again one day, and it would be on the most joyous of occasions.  
The service ended, and slowly the family members and friends of the departed ones made their way to the front to lay their tributes of love at the feet of the altar. Helga clutched her bundle to her chest, and hung back until the last of the crowd had dissipated before making her way to the altar. She paused for a moment, feeling a butterfly kiss on her cheek, a gift from Heaven. When she turned back to the men awaiting her, the pile at the altar had a small bouquet of cherry blossom twigs lying on the top.  
Helga reached the newest members of her family and took their hands. They turned and made their way out of the church into the bright sunshine, never looking back.  
  
*It ain't easy  
  
To ever say goodbye  
  
It ain't easy  
  
Lettin' go of the ones you love  
  
But believe me  
  
We'll meet again by and by  
  
If not here  
  
Than somewhere up above*  
  
A/N: *sobs* *cries* It is over! I am so sad. I really liked this story. I  
got really attached. WAH!! *wipes tears away* Oh, well, onto the next  
adventure!  
  
Fare thee well!  
Remember me in times of slumber  
And days of long, sweet summer.  
And I shall never forget you.  
  
Thanks to all of these people, 'cause they rock my world!!  
  
Tinánia Legolinde, Gwynn, Harpiebird, RuffMaster, PopStarOE, Hanakin222, JediWanda RitoAnn, IceSugarHigh, Brat Child2, Estel fuga, BrianaLFBH, InuyashaGrl13, Miah The Storm Wolf, Writer4Christ, blazing wickedness, Big Daddy, Houndour, Carlin Jones, cassbball9797, and Roxynomekop1288. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I love you all!!  
  
A big, special thanks to my friends BigBrownEyes and F. J. Madison – Their encouraging words and editing of my story is much appreciated!!  
  
I love you all!! This is Queen Artemis and her purple monkey, saying "Parting is such sweet sorrow. So I say goodbye 'til it be 'morrow." 


End file.
